


a language unto itself

by newsbypostcard



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He takes stock, briefly, giving himself what’s surely an awkward moment, and realizes he’s managed to keep his jaw clenched, his form neutral. He squares his shoulders slightly, stands taller, as though entering the foray of battle; and then he bites as fiercely as he knows how, “What in god’s almighty name is a parm bake?”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	a language unto itself

**Author's Note:**

> Way fluffier than my usual fare?? Really meant as a free write to get me used to these characters again. I like writing them falling in love for the first time, so that's what this is. Wee baby lads.

It happens before he knows it’s happened. _I love you,_ something breathes; then, a fist grasping, fingernails skittering over the surface, the thought continues: _god, I love you._

He stares briefly, heart pounding, because this is really happening, and it’s happening in the sort of moment that happens every day. This is not a grand gesture; this is not a life or death situation. This is not the way it was with Jocelyn, where she stepped into the room and became the only thing in perfect focus. This is, instead, a comm message in two words, interrupting an otherwise perfectly unremarkable study session: 

"parm bake"

Signed: Jim Kirk.

And Leonard _does not fucking know what ‘parm bake’ means._ Before this _happening_ occurred, he had the series of thoughts that showed that he’d been thinking rationally -- for a few moments, at least. _Chicken parm. Chicken bake. Baked chicken parm. Baked *eggplant* parm._ But _parm bake_ sounded almost like instructions, Leonard thinks insanely; and it's then that his comm screen flickers dark, taking away the words and leaving him only with the realization that they _used to be_ instructions, already converted into action: Jim is in the midst of a parm bake.

And Leonard _still_ does not know what that fucking means, only that he hopes to god this isn’t some bizarre drug ritual involving cheese; and as the thought occurs to him, he has a scant moment of bewildering amusement before this other feeling takes him over: this certainty, this thought that is not his own, stretching over his skin and forcing his hand to collapse in on itself just for something to hold onto while the new world order settles in: _I love you._

He’s finished staring; next, he blinks.

_I love you because … parm … bake?_

“This is not my life,” he says aloud. 

He brings up the message again.

It definitely says ‘parm bake’.

_you fucking madhouse goddamnit i love you_

Well, fuck.

He stares again, and this new reality gnaws at him, consumes him, breathes into him more words he never wanted to think. Then, because he can’t think of anything else to say: "Does this mean you want me to come over," he comms back, not leaving it a question. He hopes, at once, that Jim does want him over and also doesn’t hope it, and he’s angry at the same time that he’s elated, because this is a part of him he thought might never light up again.

"uhh yeah!! parm bake!?" his comm tells him. 

It’s like his brain is trying to tell him something, because the jacket is on before he realizes it’s happened; and there’s no thought of acting differently until it’s too late, until he’s already knocked, until he’s rubbing his hands on his thighs like he’s sixteen years old and he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s an adult with three degrees, a failed marriage, and a child, for Christ’s sake, and he doesn’t know how to-- 

“Hi!” Jim says brightly, throwing the door open. 

“Hi,” Leonard says, uncharacteristically, lost in himself. He takes stock, briefly, giving himself what’s surely an awkward moment, and realizes he’s managed to keep his jaw clenched, his form neutral. He squares his shoulders slightly, stands taller, as though entering the foray of battle; and then he bites as fiercely as he knows how, “What in god’s almighty name is a parm bake?” 

And Jim steps aside, ushers Leonard in with a wafting hand; and it takes him all five steps before he remembers that cadet dorms don’t even have a fucking kitchen. 

The door slams. 

“It’s just what I said to get you here,” Jim says, crowding him suddenly; and Leonard is flush against the wall, one hand flat against it to steady him and the other already, incredulously, dipping beneath the waistband of Jim’s pants, as though it’d always been there; as though it was meant to be there. 

“Jim,” and Leonard’s voice is grinding out from between stones. “You can’t just … speak in code.” 

“I knew you’d get it, Bones,” he says, and now his hand is against Leonard’s stomach, the other sliding in along his jawline, thumb wrapping around his ear. “I know you.” 

And it’s that moment, that one where you’ve wanted to feel somebody beneath your lips for long enough that you can’t quite bear to do it now that they’re an inch away; it’s that moment, the one that lasts an eternity, the one that knots in your throat and throbs in your balls where the force between you is powerful enough to start a hurricane and the points of contact are growing hotter in inexplicable shame from an event not yet occurred. 

Leonard hears “I know you” and he hears “I love you” and goddamnit, god _damn_ it if he doesn’t hear “parm bake,” and a gust of expected laughter puffs its way out from between his lips, parting them. And that’s the thing that ends it, that’s what breaks the tension; and he slams Jim’s hips against his own at the same time that Jim wrenches Leonard’s face into him; and in the moments that follow Leonard thinks the same litany of dubious origin, full of _god, i love you_ and _it’s just what i said to get you here_ and god help him _parm bake_ , and he realizes they all mean the same thing, a language unto itself; and Leonard is overwhelmed. 

Jim shudders beneath his fingertips as Leonard sucks Jim’s lip between his teeth; and that’s it, that’ll be the end of it, no sense questioning anything more; these words creep into him, and _stay_. 


End file.
